


Sterek/25 - When We Were Young

by FiccinDylan



Series: Sterek/25 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Derek and Stiles are the MCD's, Eternal Sterek, Feels, Inspired by Music, Model AU, Model Derek, Past Braeden/Derek Hale, Photographer Stiles, Sterek is Eternal, adele - 25, but it's natural causes, relationships are hard, ugly crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles looks back at Derek whose lips are pressed to his shoulder.  They gaze at each other, meandering hazel to aged bourbon and Stiles leans forward, kissing Derek’s nose before turning back to Lydia.</p><p>“We’re eternal, baby!  Stiles and Derek, this is a love story that will never die!”  He exclaims.  Derek laughs into Stiles’ neck causing Stiles to giggle.  </p><p>“Besides, if I want to know anything about Derek I can… you know, just ask him.  He’s always fucking there.”</p><p>Derek nips Stiles’ ear and Stiles looks at him, pointing and feigning surprise.  </p><p>“There you are!”</p><p>Derek laughs, “Here I am!”  </p><p>aka</p><p>I promise the next one will be much lighter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sterek/25 - When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'm so sorry. #blameadele. But when I heard this song, I was going through some ~things and this story hit me like a cannonball. Outlining it was hard, writing it was uggh and proofreading it was GAAAAH so please forgive any errors. 
> 
> Also, so if I were looking at the tags I would be like NOPE NOPE NOPE, but I think when you read it, the outlook is more hopeful. I would have read it eventually and loved it so I hope that helps your decision. Either way, take care of you. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, heed the tags. Feel free to come and talk to me in the comments.

**

** 

* * *

  ** _(There You Are. Here I Am.)_**

 

It was the fall of their freshman year, Stiles and Scott were headed to NYU and Lydia was on her way to a “little college _just_ outside of Boston”. She rolled her eyes every time Stiles makes that cheeky little joke, but really she’s very proud and she knows her best friends were proud of her.

They’d all grown up in the city, Stiles’ father was a police chief at a Brooklyn precinct, Scott’s mom was a private nurse who lived in Queens while servicing lower Manhattan, and Lydia was self proclaimed upper east side trash.

They can’t remember how they all crossed paths, some crazy conflation of events that got all of them together. They can’t remember their start, but as soon as they met they knew it would be forever. Through the long train rides back and forth to hang out, through the raging hormone surges that made Lydia wonder why she was ever best friends with boys and made the boys wonder “ _seriously, what’s… what’s going on down there?_ ”; the three maintained a relationship to defy the ages and where there was one, the other two weren’t far behind.

Scott and Lydia would develop a romance, at first to Stiles’ chagrin because he’d convinced himself he was very much in love with Lydia Martin. He loved her strength and tenacity and beauty. Sure, he wasn’t attracted to her, but they were 12 and going to spend the rest of their lives together, all of that other stuff would fall into place!

When he turned 16 and started salivating at every hot guy in the five boroughs, he decided to rethink his plan and ceded his endless attempts to get Lydia to marry him to Scott. She accepted the first time he asked her on a date. Stiles was happy for them, but he still felt a way about it.

He couldn’t think about that though, he had to be their rock, their strength. He was their mediator during the tough times and their biggest cheerleader during the good times. Stiles already had loads of ideas to keep Scott distracted when he couldn’t be with Lydia so the separation would be easier on them both. They were ready and everything was going to plan until Stiles walked into the lecture hall for his Calc 3 class and saw it completely full. He joined a small crowd of kids near the front and learned that the class was severely overbooked and the professor was trying to figure out the error.

Stiles scanned the classroom for runners to scare off when his eyes landed on the hottest guy he’d ever seen in his life. Perfectly styled blond hair with grey/green eyes and a pouty mouth. Stiles wanted to crush that so hard he nearly whimpered as he tried to think of a way to remove the people around him. There was a small blonde girl on one side, but she was wearing a black leather jacket, bright red lipstick and looked like she knew her way around a switchblade. Stiles’ eyes quickly moved to the other side. On that side there was a guy with his head down clearly taking a nap, and yeah, this guy was more Stiles’ speed. He could convince him to drop this class.

Stiles was about to make his way up the stadium style stairs when the hottest guy… aka the future Mr. Stilinski, shoved desk-nap guy playfully and hissed at him to wake up. The guy growled and lifted his head, his eyes flitting across the room until they locked with Stiles’ gawking jaw.

Because dammit, Stiles was gawking and he was _not_ ashamed. The other guy? _Formerly_ hottest guy? His face was acne ridden, razor burned _ass_ compared to this guy. Stiles’ dick tried to look for itself thinking it couldn’t have possibly translated those brain signals correctly, but Stiles grasps it by the base, assuring that while it was warranted, this was simply not the time for investigative tactics.

“I must have him.” Stiles says, pouring his truth into the atmosphere. A girl standing in front of him turns around frowning.

“What?” She says before looking down and seeing Stiles grab at his crotch, “Ew!”

Stiles looks at her and scrunches his face, “What? Shut up and turn around. Mind your own business, geez.” Stiles hurries away and walks up the stairs tussling his way down the aisle where assface and the hottest guy in the fucking universe aka the real and actual future Mr. Stilinski is sitting. He has no plans, all he has is a boner and a large bag and knife wounds be damned, he will get next to HGitFU!

“Hey, umm, you don’t want to take this class and this is my seat?” He asks leather knife girl who is glaring daggers at Stiles’ crotch.

“Yeah, I know, not really a great day to wear these,” Stiles indicates to his red, tight fit jeans, “but don’t worry, it’s not for you.” He whispers at the girl. She begins to reach down and Stiles wonders how much of his liver is she gonna slice out before she keeps leaning over, grabs her bag, gives him one last glare and leaves to sit on hulking black guy’s lap who is on the other side of HGitFU. Dammit, Stiles has got to learn some names.

Stiles finally realizes what has happened and looks at the empty chair before re-locking eyes with the best sex he’s going to have this decade.

“Huh, that was… I was gonna say _easy_ , but honestly I don’t know what the fuck that was. ‘Sup? I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles says jovially as he holds his hand out for really anyone to shake though he’s looking directly at Derek who won’t do the decent thing and break eye contact (though Stiles really doesn’t want him to), or shake his fucking hand (which Stiles really wants him to… seriously, just touch him…).

“What the hell is a Stiles?” The blond says before slapping Stiles’ hand out of the way.

“Rude! I can’t believe I thought you were hot.” Jackson scoffs and Derek snorts a laugh into his jacket. Jackson can’t help the look of betrayal, but rolls his eyes as Stiles continues, “And Stiles is a name, _assface_. It’s my name and it’s brilliant. What’s your name? Colton Escritoire?”

“It’s Jackson, you ass”

“ _You’re the ass._ ” Stiles coughs into his fist.

“I’m Jackson Whittemore and this is my buddy, Derek Hale. Derek,” Jackson says, turning to his traitorous friend, “Meet Stiles _Shitlinski_ of boners and backpacks fame.”

“First of all, even though that’s pretty solid on such short notice, I _resent_ that! I’m a man of a great many skills and I won’t be known for just having a large backpack and sporting a boner. Secondly, the boner wasn’t even for you, it was for-”

“Hi, Stiles.” Derek’s voice drips all over him and he swears his nipples gush out precum.

“Oh my god, the hottest guy in the universe just said my name.”

“I could say your name a lot of ways if you wanna get out of here right now.” Derek says with an elevator look that stops at every single floor.

“God, you’re so hot. Like, bad decision, hot. You think I might not say yes because if I leave I’ll get kicked out of this class, but you have no idea how dick crazy I am. Especially if that dick is attached to you. I’ll bareback, I don’t care. Please marry me.”

“You’re crazy, but I feel like that’s a part of your thing. That and _‘Jansport and the Jumping Junk’_ ” Derek says with his hands up like he’s framing a marquis, “I’m still workshopping that one.”

“Great Tyrion Lannister, _and_ you’re a pithy asshole? I’ve won the lottery! I’m dreaming aren’t I? If this were anyone else it would be completely unfair, but since it’s happening to me, fuck all them.” Stiles says with a snap. He tries not to look at hulking black guy and wink, but he can’t help it. He’s sure he’ll be able to make it up to him some day.

“I don’t want to fuck all of them, Stiles. Just you. And then maybe you can do me?”

“Jesus, would you two nerds just get out of here!” Jackson seethes, clearly embarrassed. Stiles jumps up and gives Jackson a huge kiss on the cheek before grabbing Derek’s hand and attempting to… well, again, no plan, so he ends up with a face full of floor, Jackson’s cursing in his ear and Derek’s doubled over laughter reverberating through his frame.

Totally worth it. Besides, once they got back to Stiles’ dorm, he did a very good job of shutting Derek up. .

They weren’t going to be able to pass that class anyway.

***

Derek Hale was a native of California and the son of businesswoman Talia Hale and homemaker Broderick Hale. A car accident claimed the life of his parents and youngest sister and afterwards he moved to New York with his oldest sister to live with their Uncle. Derek was near graduating age so he got his GED and applied to go to NYU. He was waitlisted and decided to take a year off to study and prepare for his next enrollment. This time he was accepted with a decent financial aid package.

One that he needed every penny off. His parents’ life insurance was enough to take care of all the bills back home and gave Peter a decent amount to support the kids on, but it was hardly enough to make them millionaires. Peter paid for Derek’s tuition, but Derek would have to get a campus job to pay for room and board, books and other expenses. The package he received from the university ensured he would only need a part time job to cover books and he was happy for it.

Especially now, since he would need the time. Time to make love to his new boyfriend, to hang out in bed with his new boyfriend, to joke around and flirt with and fall in love with his new boyfriend. Stiles Stilinski became such a fixture in Derek’s life (and vice versa) that they two found themselves simply moved into Stiles’ dorm the second semester of freshman year. Their sophomore year Stiles and Scott got an off campus two bedroom apartment and Derek had enough savings to move in with them.

Things were tight and space was limited, but these are things that don’t matter to young people on the cusp of epic love. And there’s no doubt about it, what Stiles and Derek have is epic love. Stiles is accepted by Boyd, Erica and (begrudgingly) even by Jackson. They all get along with Scott and become fast friends with Lydia when she comes to visit (Jackson starts to wonder how a jackass like Scott could land a Lydia, but Lydia’s glare stops him in his tracks - bitch don’t play).

Stiles and Derek are completely in sync and take a lot of classes together so they help the other study. They are the picture of domestic bliss, but Lydia warns them to be careful.

“If you don’t have the space to gain perspective,” she begins as she winds her fingers through Scott’s hair, “you’re going to end up missing something.”

She hated being away from her boys, but she knew that absence made the heart grow fonder.

“I’m not saying you have to go to school out of state, but maybe living together is too soon? I like you, Derek. And I like how happy you make Stiles. But this honeymoon phase is going to wear off and I’m afraid you’re going to realize how much you two don’t know each other.”

Stiles looks back at Derek whose lips are pressed to his shoulder. They gaze at each other, meandering hazel to aged bourbon and Stiles leans forward, kissing Derek’s nose before turning back to Lydia.

“We’re eternal, baby! Stiles and Derek, this is a love story that will never die!” He exclaims. Derek laughs into Stiles’ neck causing Stiles to giggle.

“Besides, if I want to know anything about Derek I can… you know, just ask him. He’s always fucking there.”

Derek nips Stiles’ ear and Stiles looks at him, pointing and feigning surprise.

“There you are!”

Derek laughs, “Here I am!”

Lydia smiles a smile that Scott knows is contemplative and a little bit sad. He turns his head on her lap and looks at the boys, trying to see what worries her. He looks back up and Lydia is leaning down pressing a kiss into his lips. He returns it, and forgets about everything else.

Derek gets a modeling contract halfway through junior year.

“Modeling contract? Really, Derek? Please tell me it wasn’t handwritten in crayon.”

“It’s legitimate, Stiles. A real agency, I google’d it.”

“Of course they’d want you, my boyfriend is hot stuff.”

“You could probably get a contract too, you know? We could be hot model boyfriends.”

“I do have experience with casting couches.”

“Stiles, no.”

Derek wants to drop out and work fulltime on modeling, but Stiles says he should change his major to something that would allow him to graduate in a year and then when he does start modeling, he’ll have a safety net. It’s smart, it’s fiscally responsible, and it worries Derek. Does Stiles not believe in him?

“Dude, have you seen _you_?! You’re going to be off the charts successful, but it’s always smart to have a backup, right?”

Derek stays in school for a while, but he’s taking more jobs and his schedule is getting more and more full. His love making sessions with Stiles are taking the biggest hits, to the chagrin of both parties. Stiles remains the ever faithful and supportive boyfriend, Derek gets… antsy. He gets told _No_ more than he’s ever been told in his life. He’s not tall enough, no, he’s too tall. He’s not muscular enough, no, he’s too bulky. He needs to shave and cut his hair, no, make it long enough for a man bun, what does he think about dye?

He takes some jobs that seem seedy, but they were _Yes_ in a sea of _No_ and Derek doesn’t want to turn down any opportunities. Stiles is sitting on the couch of one such job as the guy sets up a camera in his living room for test shots. Stiles stays quiet, but Derek can hear him over everything else in the room. Even his own reservations. They get home and they fight about it.

Derek says Stiles is holding him back. Stiles insists that Derek doesn’t know his own worth and shouldn’t put himself in situations that he’s going to regret. He shouldn’t make decisions that are going to backfire if he can avoid them (much like the decisions he’s making in their relationship, though that goes unsaid).

And they yell and they push and then they kiss and they fuck and they pretend to forget everything that was said and as they hold each other Stiles opens his eyes and cups Derek’s face in his hands.

“There you are.”

“Here I am.”

Derek drops out of school and models full time. He becomes pretty successful pretty quickly. He has a good manager, good business sense and he knows how and when to call in favors or networking contacts. He’s making enough money where he’s basically paying all the rent and utilities himself. Stiles is happy for his boyfriend, and supportive, but honestly he’d rather pay his share of rent so he could have his share of boyfriend. Derek is gone all the time. Early morning calls, late night meetings, midday fittings, gym time, out of town shoots, out of state spreads, out of country catwalks.

And Stiles tries to gain perspective from the space but thinks it’s too little too late. All he can think about is what he misses and not what’s coming back to him. Derek is aloof, withdrawn. Stiles knows it probably has something to do with his family, his childhood, but it’s too late to talk about that now. They only usually have a few hours together before Derek is off again or Stiles is in class and that time can’t be used for self introspection and deep psychoanalysis. It’s to be used for fucking and fighting and clinging to each other desperately while pushing the other way. It’s for not saying anything out loud, but screaming internally; crying without tears and bleeding through broken hearts.

And finally their time is up. Derek gets a two year contract at an international agency in Zurig and he doesn’t do long distance.

“But I love you.”

“I don’t do long distance.”

“You didn’t even talk to me about it? You didn’t think it was important to discuss this with me?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“This?”

“Us.”

“We can try.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do. That’s not true, you do want to. You-”

“I can’t, Stiles.”

“No, you’ve lost people you’ve loved before, and I get that and I’m sorry. But this is different, okay? I’m different, I’m not going to-”

“Fuck you!”

“Derek!”

“Don’t fucking talk about my family, you don’t know-”

“But maybe that’s the problem! Maybe if you’d tell me!”

“I leave on Monday.”

“ _Fuck_ , Derek! No! Don’t… don’t leave like this. Don’t throw us away. Don’t leave.”

The taste of tears has been so constant in their mouths that they barely notice the crying outside of the slightly blurred vision. They haven’t noticed the way they cling to each other since their nail prints are embedded into each other’s arms. They can’t tell where one’s breath ends and the other begins, the only thing they know is they’re breathing the wrong blend of carbon and it’s killing them both, but they can’t stop.

“If I don’t leave on Monday, I’ll leave in other ways, tomorrow, and the day after, and after that…” Derek says as he inhales everything he can about Stiles. Stiles shudders with tears, his face buried in Derek’s chest.

“Stay tonight?” He muffles, though Derek knows what he’s saying clearly. “Let me take one more picture of you?”

Stiles went to school as a criminology and forensics major and took on a photography and media arts minor. He claimed to start it so he could hone his investigation skills and learn how to properly set up a scene, but really it was a way to take pictures of Derek funded by the school.

The only pictures of Derek in their home are the ones Stiles has taken.

Derek nods and Stiles goes to his desk and pulls out a vintage Polaroid. He lines Derek up, maneuvering him how he likes and takes the picture. He goes and sits in Derek’s lap and they nuzzle each other softly while the photo develops.

“Someday we’ll work out, you and I, won’t we?” Stiles asks. Derek looks at him, a hint of a hopeful smile in his eyes.

“I… I hope so.”

Stiles grins, “We’re eternal, baby! Stiles and Derek, we never-” Stiles stops when he sees Derek’s eyes focused on the photo. He sees his weathered, stormy, beautiful face appear. Stiles sighs.

“There you are.”

Derek looks at Stiles.

“Here I am.”

The rest of the night is filled with goodbyes, and in the morning, though he can still feel the warmth of the press of lips to his forehead, Derek is gone.

***

A lot can happen in 12 years. Even when it seems like no time has passed at all.

Scott and Lydia get married and settle in the city where Scott runs an animal clinic. Lydia is a mathematician and received her doctorate and is currently “teaching” which to Stiles means “running covert ops for the government” since Stiles has yet to hear a story about any of Lydia’s students.

Stiles becomes a wildly successful photographer. His blend of old school dark room techiniques with modern media make him the Annie Leibovitz meets David LaChapelle wunderkind with a style and aesthetic all his own.

He travels incessantly, on the client dime. It’s become a staple that he always meets with his models before hand to talk about his vision and no one seems to mind funding the extra hours since his product is always top notch. He never directly fucks his clients or the models while he’s under contract, but occasionally he’ll run into to someone that caught his eye the last time he was on that side of the hemisphere.

He never sees Derek. Never hears of him really. He checks on him, as slyly as he can muster, but he never comes up with solid results. He doesn’t put too much effort into it, doesn’t think he could take it if he did. He knows Derek was big for a while, about a couple of years after he left, before seemingly disappearing. Stiles tries not to worry himself about it. Instead he focuses on his clients and friends and family. Lydia and Scott were talking about having kids, his dad was going to get remarried, there were a lot of distractions. If Stiles was ever good at anything, it was distractions.

He’s at home when he lands a whale of a contract. Six figures, complete spread with a signature shot as well as the cover. It’s for a highly anticipated new magazine called _Homme Modél._ It’s an elusive feature, no name, just details on what to wear to be recognized. The address is a popular restaurant so Stiles calls for a car and arrives early.

There are crowds of people, someone important has walked in, but it’s nothing unusual with this establishment. Stiles sips his cocktail, if it’s someone important they’ll approach him. He knows most of the up and comers either through his job or Lydia’s friend circle. He’s at home among the stars and he’s fine as long as the checks clear, and they always clear.

He’s looking at his menu when a flutter catches his vision. It’s like a movie, the crowd parts and a burst of sunshine erupts from the sea of fame hungry vultures. Stiles swears there is intro music and he’s not as annoyed by it as he would imagine. He smiles big and stands as his guest joins him.

“Hey, Stiles.” Derek Hale says to him, looking every bit of frustratingly beautiful lover that he’s always been to Stiles, even 12 years older.

“There you are.” Stiles says, smiling big. Derek’s smile matches his own.

“Here I am.” Derek holds open his arms and Stiles slips into them as though he’s never left. But 12 years is a lot of space to build up maybe too much perspective, and just as quickly as their hearts were warmed by their reunion, their nerves are wracked by the implications.

“Umm… uh, good to see you, Derek.” Stiles says after a pat on the back and motioning for the man to sit down. Derek nods and smiles.

“It’s good to see you too, Stiles. Really good.” He says, conveying a sincerity in his voice, forgetting that his truth always laid in his eyes. And his eyes could never betray Stiles.

“Derek, what are you doing here?” Stiles says, taking a gulp of water. Derek puts his head down sheepishly and then places both hands on the table as if starting a presentation… or rehearsing a practiced speech.

“I’m reinvigorating my career.” He starts simply, “My management wanted a big comeback shoot and booked the cover of _Homme Modél_. I wanted you, they said I could never even hope to get you.” Derek grins proudly at Stiles. Stiles can’t help the butterflies in his stomach.

“I said to try. I… I wasn’t sure if you would have said yes if you knew right away it was me. But you always took the best pictures of me. You could always see me where others couldn’t.”

Stiles nods. He’s not sure if he would have said yes to the shoot, so he’s not angry at the tactics. He could still back out, but he knows he never would.

“So what have you been up to?” Is what Stiles says… is all he can say at the moment.

“I had a couple of really successful years. I did the Zurig thing, did London, Milan, Australia, Japan, Tokyo, South Africa, just all over. Back in Zurig I met another model named Braeden, we started dating and moved in together after a while. Then I took some time off to raise my kid.”

Stiles looks up at Derek. He wonders how he could say something so casually and almost wonders if he misheard.

“Kid?” Stiles repeats with raised eyebrows. Derek simply nods and takes out his phone. He flips to the gallery and turns the screen to face Stiles. Stiles is met with a young boy, about 10 years old. He’s got dark, swirling jade green eyes, cocoa colored skin and short, curly black hair.

“Melvin Broadus Hale. Broadus is her maiden name. She’s… unpredictable.” Derek explains absently.

“Melvin?” Stiles says, watching Derek carefully. Derek huffs.

“Well, Mel, yeah. It’s a long story. Anyhow, we were together while she was pregnant and shortly after, but… you know I’ve never been good in relationships. I burn bright and then just explode.” Stiles wants to protest, but he knows the reality all too intimately. The shared silence between them says everything.

“So I needed to be near my kid and she wanted to move back to New York so here I am. We have separate apartments, but we’re in the same building so I can see Mel whenever I want.”

“Are you going to have time for him, while you’re trying to reestablish your career?”

“Of course I am, Stiles. That’s my kid.” Derek finally looks up from his phone and his face falls as he meets Stiles’ expression. Stiles looks away, and Derek is repentant. “Stiles, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- it’s just… we were so young and I was scared and selfish and-”

“Ask me how I’m doing.” Stiles says suddenly. Derek blanches, but nods carefully.

“Uh.. Stiles, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing well,” Stiles sits back in his seat and crosses his legs, bringing a casual tone back to the table. “Dad is getting re-married. Scott and Lydia are married now and having kids. Boyd and Erica are married and have two kids and Jackson met this guy named Isaac and they’ve hit it off.”

“Wow,” Derek interrupts. He seems to be overwhelmed. One thing that Stiles is putting together is that when Derek gets wrapped up in something, everything else arounds him disappears. Stiles originally found it strange that none of his original friends kept in touch with him. Especially when it was all Stiles could think about. But he’s always kind of known that’s how Derek was.

“Erica and Boyd have kids? Jackson’s with a dude? I remember he was so dead set on stealing Lydia from Scott. Huh, maybe I should catch up with them?” Derek laughs, but it’s nervous and they both know he won’t. They both know that as soon as Stiles entered the picture, he was the social liaison and Derek was mostly along to wear the hell out of a sweater and blend in with the wallpaper. Even at Hale Family gatherings, most invitations were sent directly to Stiles. He still keeps in touch with Laura and Peter. Neither has heard from Derek in years. .

“Yeah, so, there’s that. And I helped Scott and Lydia with something, but otherwise I’ve just been working.” Stiles finishes. Derek nods and then looks over again, placing his hand just beyond the centerline on the table. Stiles considers it as Derek catches his eye.

“Have you found anyone? Any kids?”

Stiles shakes his head, “Not really, no.”

Stiles leans forward and places his hand on the other side and just beyond the centerline of the table.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

Their hands meet in the middle.

“No, really, Stiles. Everyday.”

Stiles simply shakes his head, “You never believed me when I told you things. That you were always perfect. That I loved you, that you were worth it.”

“ _Loved_? Past tense?”

“Our love is eternal, baby.” Stiles says softly… wistfully.

“Stiles and Derek, our love will never die.” Derek repeats in kind, squeezing Stiles’ hand. Stiles looks into his eyes and sees the light, twinkling just in the back. That’s his light.

“Let’s talk about the shoot.”

“Okay.”

“Not here.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

They go to Stiles’ place.

It’s a nice place. Some new building constructed to look pre-war and vintage. Tall, vaulted ceilings, ridiculously wide spaces set up as galleries to display Stiles’ art. There are no pictures of Derek, save one. A polaroid, that sits on Stiles’ nightstand.

Derek starts to undo his tie as he looks at the photo in his hand. Stiles walks towards him, his shirt already off, his pants unbuttoned. He gets into Derek’s space, the place where he suffocates when he breathes, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He takes the photo and looks at it fondly.

“There you are.”

Derek removes his shirt and looks at Stiles hungrily, arms laid out to his sides almost in surrender.

“Here I am.”

They fuck on the sofa, against the wall. Stiles takes Derek against the kitchen island and Derek bends Stiles in half on the ottoman in the living area. They fuck now with experience, for a fleeting moment both wonder where the other picked up that new trick or tick, but neither one dwells on it, not even jokingly. There’s no space for that kind of perspective.

They move to Stiles’ bed and tangle in each other under the covers. They talk, but don’t say anything of substance, instead letting their bodies do the talking. The translation isn’t the same anymore, too much time has passed, too much has been forgotten. Stiles is stronger, but so is Derek. They don’t play fight for dominance, both are hesitant to take it.

But still, even that doesn’t stop it from being mind blowing. The perfect balm that always did cover their wounds. Their fucking is a perfect battle between nostalgia and hindsight. A collision of bad decisions mated with the reality of an experience that can never be denied. Despite the upheaval they both needed the explosion and both would withstand the impact with maximum collateral damage.

And if they could, they would do it all over... again and again.

Stiles wakes up the next morning and makes himself coffee and Derek tea. He walks into the bedroom and pulls out his camera.

“The only reason I got this apartment was for the light. The morning light specifically. Let me take just one?”

Derek nods and Stiles positions him and takes the photo. He gives Derek the address to the studio where they’ll meet later. Derek nods and leaves. He doesn’t hug or kiss Stiles goodbye. Stiles knows he only does that when he’s leaving for good.

The shoot goes off without a hitch. It was a mostly closed set; just Stiles and Derek and occasionally an assistant or intern. It was intimate and relaxed, free of the undercurrents or desperation and insecurity that plagued Derek’s shoots before. He knew Stiles loves him, thinks he’s beautiful. He knows Stiles understands how to get that on paper, in print, like evidence. He trusted Stiles implicitly and that truth was always sat deep in Derek’s eyes like a light at the end of the tunnel. It was one only Stiles could see, because it was only for him.

Derek is dressed and before going he walks up to Stiles.

“I’ll see you?” He asks without asking.

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles answers without really answering. “Anytime you want, Derek.” He’s about to add something pithy, ‘ _my work is in all the magazines_ ’ or ‘ _I was featured in Vogue last month’_ , but Derek instead says,

“I want to. All the time, Stiles. Always. I want to.” And that leaves both of them speechless, if only for a moment.

“Well then, anytime you can.” Stiles clarifies, feeding a look of importance into a man whose availability was always in question. As if on queue, Derek’s phone buzzes. “See? That’s different.”

Derek sighs and nods before turning and walking out.

Two weeks later, Stiles delivers the proofs and three months after later he’s invited to the release and launch party. Derek is there looking stunning as always and Stiles is the most dressed up he’s been since Scott and Lydia’s wedding. He looks good, Derek’s gaze on him is every indication and Stiles’ leer back projects that the message is well received.

Derek walks through the crowd towards Stiles, and Stiles towards Derek and it takes them over a half hour to meet because of all the interruptions.

“Seems familiar.” Stiles says under his breath as Derek reaches to take his hand. Without a word he pulls him out of the building to a car waiting outside. He tells the driver simply, ‘ _home_ ’ and kisses Stiles until they’re at their destination. Stiles doesn’t remember moving.

Derek is fucking him against the front door, his designer clothes in piles beneath them or tangled around his leg that Derek is hoisting up as he enters him roughly. They both hit their heights, dying the most beautiful of petite deaths and descend on a pile of cum covered couture panting as much as the stifling air as they can.

“In the morning,” Derek says, still breathing hard. He takes a swallow of air, “I’ll introduce you to Mel. His 10th birthday is tomorrow.”

Stiles nods and looks at Derek, his pupils still dilated as his head swims in the aftermath.

“I’d like that.”

He doesn’t like that. It would be safe to say that Stiles hates it, and he hates himself because of it even more.

Melvin, _‘just Mel_ ’ Derek insists, is a beautiful kid. Smart, funny in the way that only 10 year olds are, wild and rambunctious. He’s got the intensity of his father, but the bravado and carelessness of his mother. Braeden is brash, no nonsense and can only be seen in a flurry. Stiles understands what drove Derek to her, in another life they could have been great friends, but in this here and now? Stiles hates it.

He doesn’t blame Braeden for breaking them up, he’s not stupid, but he does blame her and Derek for creating an 18 year obstacle in the 19 car pileup that their world has become. There’s no clearing the road, only detours; detours that eventually lead to the other side, but not before taking you as far out of the way as possible.

“Daddy said you were his best friend in college. You were his tunnel at the end of the light.”

“Sounds familiar.” Stiles says as he pats Mel on the head. He’s always liked children and he’s great with them so he had no problem getting along with the boy and the boy seemed to take a liking to him instantly. Must be a Hale trait.

“Melvin, baby! It’s _light at the end of the tunnel_!” Braeden corrects absently from across the room. She’s talking to another mom, but Braeden doesn’t talk, she networks. There are very few kids at this birthday party, Stiles suspects it’s mainly because they don’t know any and the parents that have kids aren’t ambitious enough for Braeden’s circle. There are store bought cupcakes and glass bottles of Italian soda. Mel brings Stiles an X-box controller and motions for him to sit on the couch.

“No, mom! Stiles knows what I mean, don’t you, Stiles?” Melvin says, peering at him with eyes so familiar it causes Stiles’ chest to ache. Stiles gives him a wink and starts to outfit his character.

“ _Uncle_ Stiles, sweetie.” Derek corrects. Before Stiles can assure him that no offense was taken, Melvin nods.

“Yeah! Sorry, Uncle Stiles! Whoa, where did you get that armour from? Can you show me?!” Melvin says as he watches Stiles unlock a secret level of the store he’s in. He usually has a lot of downtime and plays video games incessantly as a way to kill time. He shows Melvin the moves and quickly becomes the favorite (and only) uncle.

Derek is a great father. This fact is not lost on Stiles as he watches Derek dote lovingly on his son. He’s proud of the boy and wants only to provide for and protect him. One night sometime later, when they were in their bed after some innumerable round, Stiles asks Derek when he knew he was in love with Melvin. Derek draws Stiles in close to him and kisses his temple as he gathers his thoughts.

“From the second I knew he existed.” Derek says matter-of-factly. Stiles would have liked to have been surprised but he wasn’t, not really. “I’ve always been like that. It was like that with you. It wasn’t like that with Braeden, but really that was because of Mel. Brae was hot, but Mel was a surprise. I would have done anything for Mel. I’m just happy she let me go.”

It’s the words that are not said that Stiles hears the loudest. The fact that Derek would have stayed with her even though he didn’t love her. The fact that he was willing to sacrifice his happiness and identity just so he could be next to his son.

“My parents took good care of me until they couldn’t. I’m in a position financially where I can be there more for Melvin, and I’m not going to leave him, I’m not going to let him down. Even if something happens, he’ll never feel abandoned.”

“Derek, you can’t promise that. You can try to make preparations, but you can’t predict how he’s going to feel, my love.”

Derek nods and looks at Stiles, “I know I can’t.” he says, taking Stiles face into his hands and kissing his lips lightly. “I can’t _alone_.”

Stiles tries to hear the words outside of the words, but this time there’s nothing. Derek smoothes his brow and grins.

“I don’t want you to be his ‘Uncle Stiles’, I want you to be his dad. I want you to be mine. He loves you, I love you. Be with me. Stay with us.”

“Derek, you know the problem has never been me staying.” Stiles says with less animosity than he’d assumed would accompany the statement. Instead of anger there’s a longing and a sadness, a forlorn hope.

“We can work, I know we can. Our love is eternal, baby; Stiles and Derek is a love that can never die. Here I am, Stiles. Here I am.” Derek says as he buries his face in Stiles’ neck. Stiles can feel the tears wet his skin.

***

“It was the photograph that relaunched his career. There was an entire spread and he was _stunning_ in it. I got the cover of course, though that was their fashion plate, some awkward thing that only people as beautiful as Derek could hope to pull off. But I also got to include an art piece. It was from that morning at the apartment. He was nude and spread out in front of the window, bathed in the golden sunlight. He was so open and so vulnerable yet full of yearning. It was that yearning that made him accessible, showed the world that he was not above them, not out of reach.

“There was minimal photoshop, so you could see the crinkles around his eyes. It showed the world he was a grown man, but not old. There were a few stray gray strands in his beard, made him distinguished, but again not out of reach. He was experienced, but humbled by it. A man’s man who would rather shine for you than draw the attention on himself, but if he had the attention he would know how to use it. He was a masterpiece. My masterpiece.

“He stayed in New York and worked for about five years before Braeden decided to move to California to be near her mother who was sick and start her correspondence career. They fought a lot about it; Derek not wanting to leave or go back to California, Braeden not wanting Mel to be bicoastal. When it was all said and done, Braeden won out.

“Derek got an acting coach and landed some pretty high profile roles right away. They were impressed with how emotive he was, he told me it was because of me, that I always directed him through shoots and showed him how to emote. At first he wrote me letters, long handwritten things, full of hopes and dreams and expectations. He won some industry awards and he always thanked me in speeches, at first. After a while he took Hollywood by storm. He was always good at that. Taking people by storm.”

“Grampy, I don’t understand.” The young woman at his bedside says as she warms Stiles’ hands between her own. “Did you not move to California with Derek?”

Stiles motions towards where he thinks his cup is and waits as the nurse feeds him the straw. He gulps down the cool water and revels in the way it moistens his throat. He swallows a couple of times and sighs.

“Grampy? Hollywood?” the young woman insists. Stiles chuckles and nods.

“Yes, sweetie. Grampy didn’t forget about his best girl!” The young woman rolls her eyes fondly, her cocoa skin glowing and her green eyes arresting. Stiles can’t see her anymore, but he knows her from when she was a baby, has felt her face and understands how she’s grown. He reaches forward to drag his thumb over her heated cheek. “Seems familiar.” he says absently.

“My home and my life were here in New York, and I don’t do long distance.” Stiles explains. The young woman is about to speak, but Stiles continues.

“He told me that if it was just him, he’d choose me everytime.” Stiles took a gasping breath that seemed to take him by surprise. The nurse tries to give him more water, but he declines. “Since it was Mel though, he had to go. He promised to write, and he did, but he was never good at loving halfway, and we don’t do long distance.”

“He found another way to keep you close.” The young woman says as she remembers an article with a biography of Derek Hale.

“I don’t think he ever knew my real name, no, I think that was just cosmic coincidence. Derek Hale is like a burst of sun. You either let it burn you or you take shelter in the shade, but he’s never out long enough for just a tan. He’s so bright. He’s my tunnel at the end of the light.”

The young woman smiled and pressed her lips into her Stiles’ hand.

“I think you mean your light at the end of the tunnel, Grampy.” she clarifies. Stiles grins and shakes his head.

“No, my dear. He was the thing you got lost in, surrounded by light.” He stops for a moment and then feels for the nightstand beside him.

“I still have that polaroid, you know? And I still have that picture I took of him that morning. Both are up here now,” Stiles points, indicating to his brain, “ever since I lost my eyes.”

“Your eyesight, Grampy. And you’re 100 years old, you did good to keep it for as long as you did.”

Stiles scoffs, “Same difference. Everything is a white haze during the day, like a burst of sun, too bright but still unclear. Much like Derek is.”

“Was, Grampy. You remember? He passed away.” The young woman says quietly. For being 100, Stiles still has great mental facility, but she was told to tread lightly when speaking of lost loved ones.

“Hmm, that’s right, I suppose he did. When was that?” Stiles asks.

“A year ago, next week. It was in the papers. They’re going to show some of his movies down at the _Landmark_ next month.”

“Yes, yes. You go for me, okay?” Stiles knows she’ll agree even though he can’t see her nodding. Since the day she was born they were partners in crime.

“Hmm… well it won’t be long now.” He says. The young woman doesn’t question him, can’t bear it so she doesn’t, but they both know. “I read an article about wolves. Something like, they mate for life, and when they get old they simply give themselves to the elements. The mate never lasts long without their beloved, can’t bear existence without them. Within a year they expire and the two look forward only to eternity. It’s a love that never truly dies.”

“You think that’s what will happen with you and Derek?” The young woman asks. She’s had this conversation many times before, but never tires of hearing Stiles’ response.

“Who knows, _kochanie_? I’m sure I read something on wiki and then just made the rest of the shit up, but it’s romantic, right? Besides, with Derek, we always separate, but we always meet again.” Stiles turns his gaze directly to the young woman who stills at the cloudiness in his eyes. “Fuck and fight, fuck and fight, break up to makeup and fuck some more!”

“Oh my god, Grampy!” The young woman exclaims as she bursts into laughter. Stiles laughs until he’s hacking and wheezing and the nurse is nearly shoving water down his throat.

“Alright, Ratchet, I’m fine! Go on, leave me and my girl here alone for a minute.” The nurse sighs the sigh earned only by having to provide fulltime care to a geriatric Stiles Stilinski and leaves the room.

Stiles sits back and turns his face towards his window, letting the sun warm his skin and burn his eyes.

“It won’t be long now. Won’t be soon before long. And there he’ll be.”

***

“Hello everyone.” The young woman stands at the podium and waits for everyone to quiet down. “We’re here to commemorate the life of Melvin Claudius Stilinski, otherwise affectionately known _worldwide_ as “Stiles”. The crowd titters respectfully as Stiles great grandniece, Johnna continues her tribute.

“There will be more services and memorials, but I thought it was important to have one with just family and close friends. Oddly enough this was still quite the affair, since everyone Grampy Stiles knew was considered family.

“I’m Johnna McCall-Hewitt, and as some of you know, I’ve been recording conversations with my great great uncle to turn into a book and film of his life. And as all of you know, with Grampy Stiles, there was plenty of content!”

The crowd laughs sadly, some shed involuntary tears while remembering the man who brought such light to their worlds. Johnna continues outlining the life of a man who’d become their legend and after, dismisses everyone to the repass.

Stiles wanted something small and simple, outdoors if the weather permitted and absolutely no black.

“And large hats!” He threw in at the last minute. Johnna looks out on the lawn before her covered with picnic blankets, bright spring dresses and the wildest hats on Earth and knew her beloved would not be disappointed.

She sits beside her great great grandmother and smiles as her own daughter comes bounding towards them.

“Hi Mommy, hi Grammy Lydia!” The little girl says softly as Johnna lifts her to give Grammy a kiss. Lydia strokes the young girl’s hair as she rests her head on her grammy’s knee.

“Grammy, why do we call Grampy Stiles, _Grampy_ if he was really our super great uncle?” So far Tara’s understanding of familial hierarchy is great, great-great, really great, and super great. It wasn’t a bad system and Johnna knew they were blessed to have such a strong living lineage.

“Well darling,” Lydia says, not entirely sure of which grandchild this is, but it’s one she remembers liking. “Scott - bless his soul - and I were having trouble conceiving, so your Grampy Stiles helped by donating some baby juice to us.”

Johnna wonders if maybe this wasn’t a bit too risque for her 14 year old daughter, but decides to let it continue.

“So biologically, he’s the father of our children.” Lydia says, watching her family mill around the park, corralling children or consoling one another. Tara scrunches her face in confusion.

“But why not just tell everyone that? Why make him an uncle and not just another dad? It’s always good to have more moms and dads isn’t it?” Tara asks innocently. Lydia chuckles.

“Times have changed a lot, honey. At the time we assumed that Stiles would find someone to settle down with and start his own family. I don’t know, at the time I’m sure it made sense.”

“But he never did, did he?” Johnna asks. When she was born he was on the cusp of 70, but evidently she had old eyes and he had a young spirit. They were friends in the purest sense of the word. He talked about his past all the time, but when recalling old love, he only spoke of Derek.

“Nope, he didn’t. He basically served as second dad. Scott expanded his clinics and took to traveling a lot so Stiles was there to fill in the absence. That’s why you call him _Grampy_ and not _Uncle_ I think. He was always second dad to you kids.” Lydia explains using the most general form of “you”. “Besides, he was always hung up on… uh, what’s his name? The actor, you know, they’re doing that marathon over at _Landmark_ …”

“Derek Hale?”

“Derek! Yes, that bastard.” Lydia spurts out causing Tara to gasp and try to hide her smile from her mother. “I knew from the beginning they burned too hot and too fast.”

“What was it about him, Grammy?” Johnna asks. Lydia simply shrugs,

“For Stiles he was like a dream come true that he could never fully return to. He was always there, but never consistently within reach. Everyone watched Derek, but Stiles was the only one who really saw him and I suppose the frightened Derek. Someone loving him that much. I would have thought that boy would have changed him, but it made him worse.”

“Grampy Stiles didn’t think Derek ever really knew his real name.”

“I’d imagine that he didn’t.”

“But where do you get the name Melvin from? How could he not have known?”

“Probably just some cosmic coincidence.” Lydia said, smiling wistfully as though encountering a memory.

“That’s exactly what Grampy Stiles said, just a few weeks ago.”

“He’d be right. He and Derek were always like that, their entire relationship was a confluence of bad decisions and frightening instantaneous love. The kind that could only be blamed on the pull of the moon or the direction of the tide. Mercury was permanently in retrograde in their outer space but they never saw it because they could never give each other enough space to gain perspective. Even when they were far apart, they could never truly let each other go enough to come back.”

Johnna takes a moment for Lydia to catch her breath and to let the weight of her words rest on her. After a moment she inhales and flicks away a tear on her cheek.

“Do you think they made it? Finally, in Heaven or wherever, free from all of life’s distractions? Do you think they’re together now, driving the angels crazy with their will they/won’t they shenanigans?”

Lydia grabs Johnna’s hand and squeezes it tightly.

“Honey? I’m sure of it!”

***

Stiles is bathed in light, too bright, unclear. He’s moving through the light, basking in it, floating on the glow until he sees a spot as small as a pin but just as sharp. And as he nears, the spot gets larger and larger until it becomes a shape, an outline, a tunnel at the end of the light. It starts to fill out and the blurriness is pushed to the outer edges revealing at its center, a sparkling kaleidoscope holding every truth he’s always known and a presence reaching for him, beckoning him to follow.

If there’s a thing such a grinning in this place, Stiles is sure he does so, as he pushes out his essence and wraps himself into the air that was once suffocating, but is now invigorating. They revolve until they’re so entangled, they can only be described as “one”.

_There you are._

_Here I am._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sterek is eternal.
> 
> I promise the next one WILL be lighter! Happy even!


End file.
